The Darkest Light
by MusicEnthusiast
Summary: Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. But how can the light and the dark create something beautiful? Modern AU E/E (though it takes a while to start. please forgive me.) -Coverart is by Eponnia, the awesome person. That is all-
1. Chapter 1: The Night

Author's Note

1. Please note that I have not read the brick, and I don't plan on doing so soon, so everything in this story is from my imagination, the musical and movie, and the things I read on a Wikipedia page, because I intensely suck at doing any sort of research.

2. I don't like being picked on for liking people I like, and liking them together. Though I also don't like being unrealistic. Please note though, anyone who might actually care, that this is an Alternate Universe. It is a completely different place, almost different characters. I am not trying to kill the wonderful work of Victor Hugo by removing his artistic integrity; I am just trying to create my own. And in my artistic vision, Enjolras has a first name, a baby sister, and he hasn't quite figured out his sexuality. If that bothers you, don't bother reading any more. I'm not trying to shove this in your face, I'm just trying to create an outlet for myself. And plus, if you choose to read the story, knowing that you hate the idea of the characters, then you're just bringing it on yourself, so don't go blaming me for it.

3. I am decently religious. This will not affect my take on this story. It does however have effects that I believe I should warn you ahead about. A: I don't write smut. This fic is rated T for language, and for the reality of the horrible conditions I wish to portray. I don't want to sugar-coat things, but I also won't be writing about sex lives. Believe me there are plenty of other stories that do that, I won't. B: I have an idealist attitude towards everything. It means that everything I do has this underlying current of hope and life running through it. This will be true in this case too, though I don't want to create a fairytale land where nothing needs to change.

4. I really do like my characters, but they haunt me to tell their stories. So, again, I'm not going to try to sugar-coat happenings that appear to me. Also, I have a really awful track record of updating. So, sorry about that. This will be left hanging, I can almost certainly promise that.

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo wrote the book, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg wrote the musical, not to mention Tom Hooper directed the beautiful 2012 movie version. Also, Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks are my perfect Enjolras and Eponine, as well as most of the others from the 2012 movie. I also stole a few first names from another fic on this website, Victor Hugo High School, by _**JetGirl1832. **_Be proud, I liked the names you came up with so much that I actually thought that they were the actual names until I actually started researching a little. Coverart for this story is by Eponnia.

With that, situations are mine, and half the names are as well.

I hope you like the story. :)

Chapter 1: The Night

She woke up earlier than anyone else in the house. It was weird to walk around the place with no one up, especially considering how late many of her father's friends went to bed. Quietly, she stole into her parent's room, where they were both passed out, on top of the covers, barely clothed. Two others were sleeping entirely nude on the floor.

She snuck around them, until she could reach the dresser. She opened the second drawer and stole one of her mother's shirts. All of hers were in rags and this had been part of her daily ritual for almost a year. She'd steal a shirt, and wear it until she would get in trouble at school for it being so torn, and then she'd steal a new one. She found it almost unreal how lucky she'd been not to get caught, and that her mother hadn't realized that she was wearing the expensive shirts she bought at department stores around the city.

But, she'd been living like this since her father got caught and put in jail for a year, when she was almost 12. Before that, her parents had almost been reasonable, a little abusive to her and her younger siblings, but after that… Gavroche had run away the first time he'd gotten a bruise from her. And when she had been away for a week, at a school trip, Azelma had disappeared.

They hardly even noticed her around anymore, not in their drug and alcohol- induced coma's, it meant she wasn't beaten much anymore, but they wouldn't ever give her anything either.

She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't been hungry. And she couldn't bear the embarrassment of admitting to her school counselor that her parents were slowly starving her, so she couldn't get lunch at school either.

Who would care anyways, who would care about poor, unfortunate Eponine Thenardier. She had never been called into the principal, because no one believed she could actually pass high school. The counselor looked at her with pity in his eyes, and barely anyone else even noticed her.

She had seen every one of her teachers, at least the teachers of the classes she actually attended have to check their roles to make sure she wasn't lying and she was actually in their class. She just wasn't memorable and she liked it that way. It meant that she didn't get hurt.

There were two people who were sort of like friends. She didn't have friends, not really. She couldn't trust anyone, not enough for friendship. Friendship meant going home with people, and meeting parents. It meant getting smoothies from a café. She didn't want anyone seeing that close to her.

Benedict Grantaire was a hopeless alcoholic, he lived with his not so sober father, but the alcoholism he'd gotten from his mother. She was fine with him. He was blunt and constantly drunk, but he was better than most and most definitely better than the other guy who hung around. Alain Montparnasse was the son of one of her father's friends, and, at 17, he was already a heavy drug addict, and he carried a gun hidden in his baggy pants.

Quite honestly, he scared her. She didn't like anyone who knew her parents, much less anyone who was actually like them. How could she ever deal with someone who was like Alain? Cruel, hard, and disturbing. He hung around because he liked her. More than anything else, it was his attraction, his lust that terrified her. Meaningless sex was one thing, (though she had never actually had any, she was a virgin because of circumstance, not because of choice, necessarily) but lust and passion was something else entirely.

Still, she was too scared of him and his drugs and his weapons to tell him to stay away, so he stuck around. And if she had a true acquaintance in Ben, she also had a pretty strong bodyguard. At least she knew that she would never have to see Montparnasse again after she moved out. After she turned 18, which was the week of high school graduation, she intended to get as far away as she could, and Ben had told her he'd come with her.

She finally found a shirt she decided she'd be fine wearing for the next month or so, and turned, but she'd forgotten to close the drawer, and as she turned, she banged her knee, hard on the corner. She yelped, and then froze. If she knew nothing else, she would still know that noise was dangerous.

She stared at the bed, at her mother's bra-clad form, and hoped against everything she knew that her mother would choose this one time to sleep deeply. Hope was in vain though. Her mother sat up almost immediately, and after she'd blinked a few times, she saw Eponine.

And then the shouting began. Eponine ran as her mother screamed for her to stop. Yelling slut and bitch down the hallway as Eponine skidded in her socked feet on the dirty wooden floor. Though Eponine wasn't very fast, she was faster than her very high mother, and as she escaped outside, still shoeless, and in her worst pair of jeans, the ones she actually slept in, she heard her mother scream after her that if she came back, she would die.

Slowly, Eponine started the long walk to the school. One more month, she chanted to herself, pulling the shirt she'd risked so much to steal over her threadbare tank top and shivered to herself in the early morning air. She'd steal one of the athlete's shoes when she got to school, she had before, and she could again.

One month, and she would be free. One month. One month. One month.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

His laptop beeped loudly. Another email this morning. That was unusual. He'd already answered his grandfather's question about graduation, and Marius' Latin question from last night, after he'd already gone to sleep.

Muting the news on the TV, he sat down once more at his desk, and read the new email. It was Lucas Combeferre, his vice president, with a question about the graduation party and speeches. He shut the laptop without answering; it was only about a half an hour until he would see him in the president's office, for an entire hour of business and planning. Combeferre just like to be ahead of things.

Combeferre was a great guy to have as a vice president. He loved philosophy, so he could keep up with the idealistic views that he as the president loved.

One month until graduation. One month, and then he could go on to college, and become the best defense lawyer that he could be.

He packed up the laptop, and carefully placed it in his bag, as orderly as he always did. Most of his school supplies were already in the bag, in the special places that he had made for them throughout the year. Putting the bag on his bed, he turned to the mirror in his private bathroom. A mirror that he kept conspicuously clean.

Not that he really liked to look at himself in the mirror; he just didn't like things that didn't fit in with his world. He kept his room clean, his bag organized, his schoolwork neat, and his bathroom immaculate. They had a maid, but she had his mother to deal with already and he hated to add to her work, knowing that she was almost in a worse situation than the storybook character Cinderella. And his mother was the wicked witch. The maid, Azelma, was a tiny girl, 16 at most, with a 6 month old baby, and no husband or lover. She'd been working for them for the last four years, and was one of the hardest workers that his mother had ever seen, which was the only reason she hadn't been fired when she had gotten pregnant.

It hadn't been her fault. She'd been raped going home from their house one night. He knew because she'd asked him to help her find the bastard. They hadn't succeeded, but he managed to give her money whenever he could, to help support herself and the baby, which she'd refused to give up, but still his mother was unrelenting.

He pulled the tie off of his rack, and quickly tied it around his neck, and turned down the collar. Uniforms. Most of his friends complained that they were at a private school that actually required uniforms, but he realized the necessity of them and didn't mind them. He didn't even try and customize his, though many of the other students did. They were just clothes, well-made, decent clothes. And he didn't mind them at all.

Looking at himself one more time in the mirror, to check his presentation as president, he grabbed his bag off the bed and headed downstairs.

His mother was in the front room, watching a celebrity TV show with pointed dislike. His little sister was eating an omelet at the kitchen table. She looked tiny in the large room, completely alone, but it was this idea of proper that his mother wouldn't let go of. Patria was only in fourth grade, 9 years old, and small for her age, but she'd inherited her mother's fine, straight blonde hair, and she was his pride and joy.

Leaning down, he hugged her, before taking an apple from a basket in the kitchen, and his car keys from their hook in the entryway.

His mother called him back. She was as regal as anyone he'd ever known, more like an evil queen than the trophy wife she was. As he turned to answer her, she stood, and though she was still in a long bed robe, her ropes of blonde hair were already in a knot on top of her head, and her eyes were dramatically lined and made up.

She pursed her lips, and straightened his tie and his collar, patting down his gelled hair before releasing him. He stepped away and turned his back, before making his tie a little bit crooked again, his little rebellion. He hated these little morning rituals, her dependence on appearance so great that she had to approve of his look.

It had only been recently that he had started noticing how manipulative she was, not that his father was much better, as a State Senator, he was gone for long hours of the day, and was nearly as concerned with appearances as his wife, but at least he would give them some benefit of the doubt.

Patria was rarely let outside. She was slightly mentally retarded, and instead of becoming a devoted, helpful parent, willing to help her child in any way possible, his mother had been just as selfish, and self-conscious as she had ever been. She couldn't stand the idea of her less than perfect child being seen, and so Patria was cooped up, tutored at home specially, so that she didn't even have the release of school or friends.

If there was a way to get her away from his parents and take her to college with him, he would do it. However, he had looked, and the only way to get proper custody would be if it was able to be proven that the parents were abusive, or the child was in a particularly bad situation.

However, he had managed to do one thing for himself. He had gotten into Princeton University, with both Marius and Lucas, and his parents believed that he would be going there to study Criminal Law. Instead, he would be going to a nearby college, the Thomas Edison State College, and studying Defense Justice.

His parents could not, and would not hold him back. He had decided that a long time ago. No, the perfect president of the Ridge Christian Academy would not be controlled by his parents. Alexandre Enjolras was too smart, too talented, too powerful to let them.

One month, until he could start doing something he really wanted to. One month. One month.


	2. Chapter 2: The People

Author's Note

1. I have not read the brick.

2. I like who I like with who I like. I'm not trying to shove this in your face. If you choose to read the story, knowing that you hate the idea of the characters, then you're just bringing it on yourself, so don't go blaming me for it.

3. I don't write smut. This fic is rated T for language, and for the reality of the horrible conditions I wish to portray.

4. I have a really awful track record of updating. So, sorry about that. This will be left hanging, I can almost certainly promise that.

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo wrote the book, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg wrote the musical, not to mention Tom Hooper directed the beautiful 2012 movie version. Also, Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks are my perfect Enjolras and Eponine, as well as most of the others from the 2012 movie. I also stole a few first names from another fic on this website, Victor Hugo High School, by _**JetGirl1832. **_Be proud, I liked the names you came up with so much that I actually thought that they were the actual names until I started researching a little. Coverart for this story is by Eponnia.

With that, situations are mine, and half the names are as well.

I hope you like the story. :)

Chapter 2: The People

Combeferre caught up to him as he got out of the red sports car that had been his 15th birthday present from his parents. Or at least one of them. He couldn't be seen in something less than amazing, could he? That was just asking too much of his darling parents, be less than presentable.

It was just a car. It wasn't too much, and it let him get to where he wanted to be, so its uses greatly outnumbered the childish reasons he would refuse to use it.

"You didn't answer my email this morning," Lucas said to him, though he obviously knew that Enjolras already knew that. "You and I will be speaking at graduation as valedictorian and salutatorian, but at the after party, do we want speeches by say, the senior class president, and the leader of the women's equality club?"

Alexandre looked at him, deliberating the pros and cons in his head. He knew full well that Lucas wouldn't leave him alone until he answered the question. On one side, they really needed a female to speak somewhere, or else the entire women's equality club would be on him. They already weren't too happy with them, because the vice-president had been throwing herself at him all year, and when she had actually stripped in front of him at a party he had told her very strongly no, and left.

On the other hand, he really wanted the graduation after party, which was only for students, no parents or teachers allowed, to be a let-off-steam kind of thing. And then it came to him.

"We don't want any speeches at the after party, but put Courfeyrac in charge of it, as like a host." Courfeyrac was the fun-loving president of the senior class, and though he'd been elected purely for popularities sake, and had done nothing in office, as far as Alexandre knew, he would still be able to control the after party and make sure it was fun and stayed that way. "And, let's add a new speaker to graduation. It'll shorten our times to speak, but Cherine Musichetta should be good, shouldn't she?" He named the historian of the senior class, a beautiful, soft-spoken girl who had the heart of the entire student body.

Combeferre took out his tablet, and pulled up a document that he had all of the activities organized in. "Yes, that will work well. Instead of both of us having 7 minutes to speak, she and I will speak for 3.5 minutes, and you'll have your full time."

Alexandre almost tried to convince him to make the times equal, he could, he knew. But Combeferre had an inherent sense of propriety, and though Alexandre might not like it, if everyone got the same amount of time to speak, people would be upset, because he, as valedictorian and student body president should speak for more time than the historian of the senior class.

They stopped in the room where the student body presidency met and dropped their bags; Alexandre took his wallet out of his pocket.

His friend looked at him. "Again?"

Alexandre looked at him as he pulled $80 out of the wallet and went out into the hallway. Combeferre followed him.

The first person he stopped next to was a foster kid, who was a good person at heart, but his foster father only wanted the money, instead of a kid to take care of. He was unable to get a job because of a deformed arm that made things hard for him, and his situation, so he barely had any money for food, or new things. Alexandre took his good hand and helped him stand, so he could press a bill into his hand. The boy, Andre Bossuet, hugged him, and turned away.

The many other times Alexandre had done this, he had made one rule. He didn't want people knowing that he did, but if $20 of a $300 allowance could keep one boy from starving for a week, he didn't want to have it.

Unlike his parents, he wasn't greedy, in fact, he was anything but. Greed never came into the picture he saw of the scholarship students at his school, only hunger and help. It was one of the reasons he wanted to be a defense lawyer, not only a defense lawyer, but a state defense lawyer. Protecting those who didn't have the money or power to protect themselves.

Of course, Lucas, and Marius thought he was insane. It was a new thought, a new ideal of his, only in this year as president did he come up with it. Last year, when they had all applied to Princeton, and all had gotten in, Alexandre had not seen, and had not cared. But everything changed when he started actually looking for problems he could fix.

The other three $20 bills went to other students who could barely afford to eat, he didn't ask why, but he only gave to those who really needed his help. Every week, he ended up giving away about half of his allowance to these people. Lucas, for his part, didn't try to stop him, even though he obviously didn't see the necessity of what Alexandre did, in fact he thought he was being played by the poor. That would change. Alexandre Enjolras would make sure it did.

Marius caught up with them at the third person, an adorable little sophomore who gave up everything she got at home to help her two younger brothers. She was a scholarship student, and kept a 3.8 GPA, even though she worked full-time after school as well.

The three of them had grown up together, had been in the same classes since kindergarten. Nothing much had changed in the past 13 years, though. Alexandre had always been the leader, Lucas had always been more organized than anyone else, and Marius had always been a romantic (though after a bad time with a four-day relationship in the second grade, he had promised that he wouldn't date anyone again until he met his soul mate. It hadn't happened yet.) So when Marius came up to them whistling, it wasn't anything new. He left his tie loose around his neck, and he had long ago cut the cuffs off his sleeves, so he could roll them up on his arms.

"Another month, and then we're free. We're leaving for New Jersey right after graduation, right?" He slung an arm around each of their shoulders. Alexandre looked at Lucas, and then shrugged Marius off, headed towards the cafeteria. The last person he needed to see was always in there before school, she actually worked in the cafeteria, making the only thing the cafeteria had that was safe to eat, the mashed potatoes.

You would think that in a well-funded private school, some food served would be edible. It was not. As he found her, Fantine, a 33 year old woman, he gave her the last of the money, and she gave him a cookie. Fantine had dropped out of high school many years previously, when she had gotten pregnant at 15. The boyfriend had abandoned her, and with no way to support herself and the baby, the poor woman had lost the baby girl, Cosette, who was her one and only pride in this world. Now Fantine worked in the cafeteria to try and support herself, and went to the adult classes at night.

Her daughter had been adopted and Fantine didn't even know where she was. Cosette was one of those special cases that Alexandre had been working on all year. About once a week, he took a couple of hours and devoted them to finding her, though he hadn't had much luck yet.

After he had given Fantine her money, Alexandre turned back to his friends. "Yes, right after graduation. I'm not staying at home any longer than that."

Lucas looked at him. "Have you told your parents that you're not going to Princeton?" It was a stupid question. Lucas knew it, he didn't approve of his best friend running off to Trenton, New Jersey to go to a hardly known college, especially when he had gotten into Princeton University. He also knew that Alexandre Enjolras could never be swayed when he had decided something. He was set.

Looking hard at Combeferre, Alexandre shook his head. If he told his parents his plans, he would probably be locked in a personalized dungeon in their basement. He wouldn't put it past his mother. And he didn't want to be around her for longer than he had to be. If only he could figure out a way to get Patria. Patria. Patria didn't deserve to be left alone in that house, not with the evil queen.

"I'll figure out something," Marius said. Unlike Lucas, he didn't take a side on Alexandre's decisions. He may disagree or agree with them, but he never judged. "Your parents will never know with me on the case."

Alexandre really did appreciate it. Marius was a very trustworthy person, if a little romanticized. Marius was the only one who he had dared to tell that he had never felt any attraction to a woman, not even when that one girl from the women's equality club had stripped in front of him. He hadn't felt anything. Not anything.

Sometimes he thought that was a big deal, certainly, his mother would think so, turning to the other side. If he wasn't attracted to girls, then he must be attracted to boys, and that would not do with her perfect world. He would be a captive as surely as Patria was. Sometimes it wasn't. It's not that he liked boys or girls; he just didn't feel any attraction towards either sex. Because in all of his years at Ridge Christian Academy, he had never been attracted to a guy either.

So, when Marius said his parents wouldn't find out, they wouldn't.

Alexandre actually let himself smile, for a second, before it felt weird and he stopped. But, as he led his friends back to the student body office, he felt like even though he hadn't found Cosette, and Patria would never be let to come with him, he could feel his world about to start, he could do something. He would do something. He wouldn't let anything stop him.

Ben pulled up next to her about halfway to the school. He drove an old beaten up Volkswagen, one of those really long ones, which was the only thing his dad would let him drive, after he totaled the two new cars he'd gotten right after he'd gotten a license.

He pushed open the passenger side door, and Eponine got in immediately. It was not the kind of day that she wanted to walk to school, especially not barefoot, jacketless, and with no kind of protection other than her beaten jeans and the silky shirt she had stolen.

"Hey, thanks." She reached out to the heater, which Ben had blasting. He didn't like being cold, so he always made it a little too warm for everyone else, though Eponine, who was always cold, didn't mind it so much.

"Not a problem, sweetheart. There's a sweatshirt somewhere in the back if you want to go digging. You look cold. Mickey-D's all right?"

Eponine grinned. She didn't like taking Ben's charity, but over the four years she had known him she had gotten slightly used to it. The Grantaire family was rich. Richer than anyone she knew, definitely. And after her found out how much she was actually given at home, he yelled at her to stop being stubborn, and stopped talking to her for a month. Finally, she had gotten enough over the embarrassment of it all to screw up the courage to go and talk to him, and ask him for a ride home.

Since then, she hadn't often refused his offers, at least without a good reason. And he had taught her how to pick locks and not get caught sluffing classes.

Still, she didn't like not being in control of the situation. That just because her parents should have been imprisoned long before, she couldn't get a job to support herself, and she had to depend on someone else. But, she had to admit, it was nice knowing that whenever she needed him, Ben was always going to be there.

She probably had been a bit in love with him when they had first met, under the bleachers, him stealing a drink, her stealing some peace, but he didn't swing that way. Not that anyone else at Northwestern actually knew he was gay. He had dated a douchebag at Renaissance about a year after she had first met him, but it hadn't lasted long, and Ben had been left broken. Eponine truly believed it was because of the boyfriend that Ben had crashed those first two cars. But he just laughed at her whenever she tried to suggest anything.

He also said that he liked this old Volkswagen station wagon better than either of the cars his dad had bought him.

Eponine dug through the piles of old schoolwork, dirty clothing that he hadn't yet transferred into his house, including an old pair of tennis shoes that she stole to wear that day, and empty alcohol bottles to find the sweatshirt he had mentioned. It was a dark grey, slightly stained over the left shoulder with a darker substance, but it was obviously not a new stain, and the material was warm and soft as she slipped it over her head.

"So, why were you walking, and without shoes?" Ben asked, as he passed her a cup of orange juice. She could tell that he'd wanted to ask since he picked her up, but had been too kind. Usually she just waited outside her parent's house for him to come get her. He knew very little about her home situation, only that her parents weren't fit to raise a parrot, much less a young woman, and most of what he knew he had just observed from her attitude.

Eponine was naturally very guarded.

Or maybe not naturally.

All she knew was that she didn't want anyone to know how bad things were for her at home. And so she barely told anyone anything.

"My mom." She said, simply, and then, very quietly, almost hoping that Ben wouldn't catch it, "She caught me stealing another one of her shirts, and chased me out."

Of course, Ben did catch it though. He didn't know much, and all he knew for certain was that he wanted more than he had. Eponine was his best friend, and she was one of the best people he had ever met, even though she was so invisible that no one ever saw how incredible she was.

Ben wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but it was Eponine who had stopped him dead in his tracks towards suicide after his boyfriend had cheated on him and broken his heart. It didn't make him any more pleasant, but knowing that she would be waiting for him, needing him, kept him going to her, and if he had down-spiraled a little, it was only to be expected. And plus, becoming a little more alcoholic than he had already been and crashing a few cars was alright as long as he was still alive.

Still, he was much more pessimistic now.

She set a hand on his arm as they started driving again. She held two greasy breakfast burritos on her lap, but they probably wouldn't eat until they got to school. He laughed at her, the sweatshirt was several sizes too big on her malnourished frame, and the sleeves kept falling over her hands.

"When should we expect the ass?" Ben asked her. It was his favorite way to refer to Alain Montparnasse.

The ass, Alain, only hung around because he was stalking Eponine with the hopes that she would sleep with him before graduation. It was never going to happen, like Eponine would do anything that might connect her to her family. It was true that Alain was an idiot, a druggie, and an ass, among other things, but he terrified the other students at Northwestern with his face tattoo, and hidden gun, and with him around, the bullying that had surrounded Eponine had stopped.

Still, they didn't like him any more than anyone else. Tolerate was different than like, and while Alain was tolerated, he was most definitely not liked.

Eponine shrugged. "When I got up, he was passed out in the hallway outside my room with a girl. If I had to guess, I'd say he's not coming today." She had had to sneak past him to get out of the house without him waking up, but she had smelled the distinctive smell of Ecstasy and Heroin around him and the naked girl in his arms.

As she had passed him, she had had the horrible thought that she hoped he had finally OD'd so he would leave her in peace, but no, he was breathing. His snoring was enough a testament to that as the rise and fall of his skinny, tattooed chest.

"Here's to that," Ben said as he parked at the school and lifted his McDonald's cup of already spiked orange juice to toast her.

She laughed at him, but toasted him with her half-empty cup, then she grabbed a pen from the floor, and opened the car door. It was still a half an hour until the first warning bell, and she had long ago learned that if she brought her homework home with her, it would never come back.

Ben followed her example, getting out of the car and sticking the car keys in his pocket as well as a crumpled mathematics worksheet.

"Do you have another art project to do?" He asked her, as instead of walking straight into the building, she instead cut to the side to the 1st of the outcropping buildings, the one which was the visual arts lab.

"Yes," she answered, and let him in. The room smelled like the alcohol cleaner, and Ben took a conspicuous gulp of his water bottle, which Eponine was pretty sure that was at least half vodka.

Ben was never sober, at least as most people thought of as sober.

Sober for Ben was having just two beers. After a first, really good experience being drunk, and a really bad first experience being hung over, he had decided that he just would never be hung over again, and therefore always was at least somewhat drunk.

Eponine washed her hands before pulling out the oil painting that was her final art project. It was barely started, but she had the month to finish it, and it would be a masterpiece. Art was the only thing she had given herself, and though she knew it was stupid, she always wanted to pursue a career in art, maybe have her own gallery, but that was impossible, she was sure.

Behind the painting she had stuffed her schoolbag, which she now brought out, and dumped unceremoniously on the table. It was about time to clean it out anyways. She gathered the almost filled notebook, the one binder of notes for her senior psychology class, and the several worksheets and project charts for her other classes.

Ben picked up one of her old assignments, and whistled. "An A on your French assignment. And people say you're stupid."

She glared at him. "I'm just good at French. My great-grandmother came from France. It's where I got my name, she named me."

He fished out a couple more graded papers from the pile she was forming to shove in the recycling bin in the corner.

"Yeah, sure. I'll believe that. But what about these? A B in pre-calc? Another A in psychology? What's with this Eponine, you're supposed to be just as stupid as I am, and yet, you're getting good grades. My dad's just happy I'm graduating." He paused. "What's your GPA?"

"2.7," She said, snatching back her papers. She had worked hard, even for that pathetic GPA, though Ben's was worse. She was going to graduate high school; she could still remember the look on the school counselor's face when he found out that she would actually get a diploma. She was one of those kids that no one had any hope for.

Not that anyone except Ben actually cared if she graduated at all. And she wasn't going to be walking. Graduation fees were horrendous. She'd rather just get the stupid slip of paper in the mail (at Ben's house, obviously) and be done with it.

Walking wasn't for the student, it was for the parent. And the idea of her parent's actually caring if she graduated high school was laughable.

Still, as she came back to the table, she looked at Ben, and put a hand over her masterpiece. "It's almost my time, Ben," she said. "This world's about to start and I'm going to do something. I am! I really am. And nothing's going to stop me!"


	3. Chapter 3: The Enemy

Author's Note

1. Please note that I have not read the brick, and I don't plan on doing so soon, so everything in this story is from my imagination, the musical and movie, and the things I read on a Wikipedia page, because I intensely suck at doing any sort of research.

2. I'm not trying to shove this pairing in your face. I just like the people I like, and I sometimes like them together.

3. I don't write smut. This fic is rated T for language, and for the reality of the horrible conditions I wish to portray.

4. I have a really awful track record of updating. So, sorry about that.

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo wrote the book, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg wrote the musical, not to mention Tom Hooper directed the beautiful 2012 movie version. Also, Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks are my perfect Enjolras and Eponine, as well as most of the others from the 2012 movie. I also stole a few first names from another fic on this website, Victor Hugo High School, by _JetGirl1832. _Be proud, I liked the names you came up with so much that I actually thought that they were the actual names until I actually started researching a little. Coverart for this story is by Eponnia.

I hope you like the story. :)

Chapter 3: The Enemy

"Eponine. Eponine!" The nasally voice reached the art room where she happily worked on the nearly finished masterpiece. The one other girl in the art room looked up and over at her. While Eponine was one of those girls who just sort of existed in high school, not bullied, not popular, not noticed. The other girl was basically the opposite. She was into everything. And only knew Eponine from their long hours working in silence in the art room on their final projects.

Alain appeared in the doorway, a bandana around his head, in what she was pretty sure was gang colors. The other girl looked terrified, and without even cleaning off her paint brushes, she grabbed her heavy backpack and rushed out past him.

Seeing her chance, Eponine got up. Most of the students actually brought their own brushes, but Eponine couldn't afford her own art supplies, so she used the school's. Since the other girl, Lacey, had left her brushes, she could use them, as long as she left them, cleaned and still good, at the other girl's work station.

She grabbed the brushes, and went to the sink. The water was always cold, but it worked just as well as warm did, and better than hot. She could feel Alain watching her, one hand grabbing his pants at the groin to keep them from falling off his hips.

Like so many of the slackers, he had never let go of the fashion of keeping his pants so loose and baggy on his hips that they didn't stay on, much less cover his butt. She hated the style. It seemed like it was constantly trying too hard.

At least, it seemed that way on Alain.

He came up behind her, still grabbing his pants, close enough that when she turned around with the clean brushes, intent on going back to her painting, she actually backed into the sink to keep some distance between them.

"Where've you been the last couple days? I've been over with my dad at your place but I haven't seen you. And you haven't been at school for a while." His voice was complaining, nasal, upsetting. It made her think of drugs, of her parents, of weasels. Her skin crawled just listening to him.

It wasn't true. She had been at school. She had actually been working on the art project more than she'd ever worked on anything before. And she'd wanted to keep on good standings with her other teachers, so she hadn't even skipped as much as she had earlier in the year.

No, the problem wasn't her. It was him. For the last three weeks, he'd been coming to school high, in a daze of drugs and alcohol. And unlike Ben, he didn't carry his alcohol very well. It had actually been very easy to avoid him. He wasn't suited for drugs. Even now, he had the stench of cocaine around him.

She shoved him away. "Please, Alain. I really have to finish this." She tried to step away from the sink past him, but he grabbed her arm and looked at her with seriously bloodshot eyes.

"No." He was almost confused, like he didn't quite know what was going on, but he knew he didn't want to let Eponine push him away.

And that was what scared her. Even when he was so drugged up he was almost expelled, when he couldn't walk straight, when he couldn't think, when he could barely force himself to live, he always wanted Eponine.

He was unpredictable in that stage. And she could see the gun sticking out the back of his underwear.

His grip was hard on her arm, as he pulled her close to him. Too close. She could smell his rotten breath, see his yellow teeth. They were permanently stained from alcohol. And they were disgusting.

Though Eponine had several bad habits of her own, and she had to admit that hygiene was one of her pet peeves. She wore the same pieces of clothing every day, but they were never disgustingly dirty, and she kept herself clean.

Alain obviously didn't have the same issues with cleanliness that she did. And it was disgusting. Though she knew he had gotten it from his father.

"You. Will. Spend time with me. You're mine, aren't you. You're mine. Your parents say so."

If there was ever a way to make her like someone even less than she already did, that was it.

His grip tightened again on her arm. He would leave bruises, and she didn't bruise easily. He tried to step forward, his mouth gaping open, ready to rape kiss her right there, but he was too drunk to do more than lose his balance, and banged his head on the cabinets next to them.

As soon as he fell to the floor in a drunken, unconscious stupor, and his arm dropped from around her bicep, she hurried around him.

She wouldn't be able to use the nice brushes, she realized, so she dumped them on the other table, and shoved her bag and her own painting into her cubby.

About to leave, she looked back. Alain was sprawled out on the floor, his head had landed in a small bit of watered down red paint and it almost looked like he'd cracked his head open. He didn't show any signs of waking or of being conscious enough when he did to remember what had happened and come searching for her.

She was glad. Alain terrified her. Not just because he wanted sex, or that he was so passionate about stalking her, or that he was well on his way to joining a gang, even having a gun and the colors. No, it was the fact that he could so easily overpower her. That was what terrified her. He was taller than she was, and broader. And even though all of his muscle mass was from lifting a joint, he still had enough to bruise her.

She didn't like that feeling. She was overwhelmingly glad that he was being held back a year, and wouldn't be following her and Ben on their trip. She didn't know what she would do if he was coming. She needed an escape. She needed to be far away.

This was her only chance. Her only hope. The one way she had of creating herself.

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"Alex, Alex!"

He crouched down at the front door to catch Patria, who had hurled herself at him the moment he had opened the door. He hugged her as she babbled, slightly nonsensically in his ear. It was getting close, that time when he would have to give her up. When he'd be leaving.

His mother appeared in the entrance hall, and he could see her disapproving pout. The front door was still wide open. As if it wasn't enough that Patria barely ever went outside, when she was so perfect, she couldn't even be seen by the neighborhood.

He slowly stood, keeping a hold of his sister's hand with one of his, and very deliberately, his eyes locked on his mother's, he reached behind him and pulled the door shut.

She still pouted, unhappily. She would have been perfectly happy had he not even liked Patria. She didn't like her perfect child associating with her not perfect child. Still the look was slightly softer.

His eyes showing his small rebellion, he dumped his coat, shoes, and bag in the front closet and allowed Patria to pull him to her classroom, a small study/library that had been converted when his mother had decided she would not go to school.

Patria childishly pulled her schoolwork from that day and stuffed all of the papers in his hands to look over, and then sat in her little school desk. Alex sat in the chair that was usually the tutor's, and looked at the work. It was as good as any 3rd graders. Which was the grade she would be in had she started school with everyone else.

Her handwriting was sloppy, but deliberate. She didn't have the fine motor skills yet for the calligraphy that their mother expected of her.

Patria's mental retardation meant that she didn't learn things at the same rate, or the same way as normal children, but it was nothing horrid. She didn't act like a caveman, and she was sweeter than anyone else he had ever met, with the possible exception of Cherine Musichetta.

He made a big show of looking over her homework and complimenting her, ever conscious of his mother's tightly pursed lips behind him.

Finally, as he set the last paper down, she made her move.

"Patria," she said, sweetly, her eyes cold, "it's time for you to go to your room. Remember it's mommy's quiet time."

Nodding, happily to follow the ridiculous statement, Patria hurriedly stood, and gave Alexandre another big hug, leaving a jelly handprint on the sleeve of his uniform before hurrying out of the room and upstairs.

She would never dare question their mother, but he was not so naïve. And he was not so kind.

Alexandre was sick of his mother's attitude towards his sister. Just knowing Patria made him feel like a better person, and yet, she was locked away from life, like she was in an asylum. He saw Azelma peeking around the door, and then saw her scuttle away as she realized they were in the room.

"Alexandre, how kind of you to join us," she said, her voice sugar sweet. It was her first tactic for getting her way. She didn't like being rejected, and he hadn't come home until late for the past few nights.

She only had another week with him, and then he would be leaving for New Jersey, so in the limited time she had left with him, she was determined to control him, once and for all.

There was only one problem with her plan. He was not going to fall for it anymore. He was too strong for that. So, as she continued, he stood, straight, his hands behind his back in almost a military pose.

"You know how I dislike you coddling her like that. She'll get spoiled." She wiped a manicured finger along the table, frowning as she looked at it. Azelma was in for it later. Not that the room was dirty, but it still wasn't clean enough for Mrs. Enjolras' whims. "And, my darling boy, Princeton boys don't coddle their retarded sisters. Princeton boys do what their mother's say."

He didn't say anything. A few bad words came to mind, and several sarcastic responses, not the least of them being _It's a good thing I'm not a Princeton boy then._ But he was good at tactics, and he wouldn't ruin everything he had been working towards the past year.

So, he said nothing at all.

She stepped closer to him. And looked over his appearance. She frowned at the fact that his tie had been loosened and glared at the jelly handprint on his sleeve.

She brushed his sleeves, and retightened his tie. "Are you sure you need to go just after graduation. It would be such a pleasure to have you home for the summer." She looked at him, conniving. "Patria wants her brother home."

He had to close his eyes at that one. She would know that the only way to get to him would be to involve Patria. He couldn't let it affect him. He couldn't.

"I'm going to go, just as soon as I graduate. Marius, and Lucas and I have been planning this for months. I've got a summer internship up there. And they're taking summer courses. You can't get me to stay."

He pulled away from her and left the room. He was lying, of course, about the summer internship. She would never have let him go if he hadn't had a good reason for it. Marius was the one who had actually come up with the idea of a summer internship. His grandfather was connected to countless law firms and he had done a bit of research, and gotten his grandfather to talk to a firm. The firm had in fact offered Alexandre an internship. It was the offer that he had shown his parents to convince them. However, he had refused.

He would not let his mother run his life. He would not. New Jersey and Thomas Edison State College was his chance. It was his only chance. His only hope. This was how he was going to create himself.


	4. Chapter 4: Graduation

Author's Note

1. Please note that I have not read the brick, and I don't plan on doing so soon, so everything in this story is from my imagination, the musical and movie, and the things I read on a Wikipedia page, because I intensely suck at doing any sort of research.

2. I'm not trying to shove this pairing in your face. I just like the people I like, and I sometimes like them together.

3. I don't write smut. This fic is rated T for language, and for the reality of the horrible conditions I wish to portray.

4. I have a really awful track record of updating. So, sorry about that.

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo wrote the book, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg wrote the musical, not to mention Tom Hooper directed the beautiful 2012 movie version. Also, Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks are my perfect Enjolras and Eponine, as well as most of the others from the 2012 movie. I also stole a few first names from another fic on this website, Victor Hugo High School, by _JetGirl1832. _Be proud, I liked the names you came up with so much that I actually thought that they were the actual names until I actually started researching a little. Coverart for this story is by Eponnia.

I hope you like the story. :)

Chapter 4: Graduation

His name was the last one called, just like he had expected it to be. After all, he was already sitting on the stand, and as the valedictorian and student body president, he was in the position of most authority.

His mother was ready, the photographer who she had hired to capture the moment a million times had been forced from the audience into the midst of the graduating class, and as Alexandre stood, walked to collect his diploma, received a sash from the district president, and then shook hands with his principal of 12 years, every single blink was captured in high definition.

It would take his mother several weeks to go through all of the pictures to figure out which ones she wanted to order. Weeks that she would no doubt terrorize the poor photographer within an inch of his life.

Graduation was just the beginning. It was nostalgic in a way, but that nostalgia ended when he looked at his mother, with her pinched face, even at his graduation, and Patria on a leash next to her. In fact the greatest part of the entire process was when they finally announced his name and Patria escaped from his mother's hold (with Azelma's help, he was certain) and jumped on the benches to scream out his name.

He had seen his mother flip, which was also enjoyable, though he hoped that Azelma didn't get in too much trouble. She probably wouldn't, he had seen the maid do much more than help Patria escape from her leash without being caught. His mother just didn't think she was intelligent enough to do anything other than her duties.

Alexandre stepped back. To his seat, between Lucas and Marius, the principal stepped to the microphone, and as the graduating class stood, announced. "The Ridge Christian Academy graduating class of 2012!"

In well-practiced motions, the three of them lifted their tassels to the left, and the rest of the 100 person graduating class did as well, then, slowly, deliberately, they walked down the steps and in sync with the rest of the class, took their caps off their heads and threw them into the air.

It was a silly tradition, why would throwing the stupid hat into the air make your graduation official. Your graduation was official when you were handed your diploma. Not when you threw your cap, and probably lost the tassel. It was such a stupid way of handling the situation. But, he was the president, and the president was the leader.

After he had caught his cap. He went back onto the raised stage where the district president had asked him to dismiss the crowds, like half of the graduating class hadn't already deserted to their families.

"Thank you for your time, your energy, and your children. Go on with your life, graduates of Ridge Christian Academy."

The photographer caught it all, even though he was being trampled by harried graduates searching for tassels and caps, and his glasses had somehow been knocked askew in the crowd.

If he was being honest, Alexandre would have said it was thoroughly entertaining, but he also saw the despair in the man's face. The complete dejection, noticed the dirt in the man's fingernails, and the scratches on his camera. He obviously wasn't getting very good business, though, if Alexandre's mother had hired him, he must be amazing at the work. More than likely, she hired a company and they sent out this man, completely unprepared to deal with the demanding woman.

Alexandre could see it being a part of a trick. And he burned with the urge to reward this man. To seek justice. He knew it was crazy, he knew he was probably crazy, but he wanted to make sure something so wrong turned into something right.

Lucas put a hand on his shoulder as he walked down the stairs to the crowd of graduates. "Family time today, Monday we leave," he said in his ear.

And he realized that graduation was not an end, but instead it was the beginning of the rest of his life.

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She finally managed to sneak back into her parent's house. It always was empty except for one or two people about the time when everyone would go out to the bar. She'd stolen quite a bit of her mother's department store clothing, a suitcase, some expensive makeup.

She planned on disappearing right after graduation, so her mother would never be able to find her. That was necessary. She never wanted to be found. Ever.

Ben's dad, Arthur, picked her up near the school, she wouldn't actually be walking with the rest of the class, but Ben was, and she was going to be there to support him. Ben had a worse school experience than she had, but he had promised his dad that he wouldn't be drunk through his own graduation, so he'd stopped drinking a few days before, had a day long hangover, and then, he had had one full day of trying to get used to not being drunk for once in his life.

So, sitting in the audience, Eponine just had to laugh at Ben's fidgeting. Next to her, his dad laughed too, especially as, when his name was called, Ben, climbing the stairs to get his diploma, tripped and fell on his face, right between the legs of the girl who had announced his name.

She screamed pitifully, and tripped off the edge of the stage herself, barely caught by a fast choir kid.

On the bleachers, Eponine and Arthur were busting a gut.

"That, my girl, is how to graduate!" Arthur threw an arm around her shoulders, and Eponine stiffened a little. Arthur didn't notice, he was a naturally affectionate. It was a trait that he had passed onto his son, but Ben knew how unused to any physical affection she was.

It took some getting used to, but she actually liked how he was with her.

True to form, Ben took his spill and turned it into something cool, from where he was lying, he used one of the few things he had actually learned in high school and turned it into a handstand, and then a backflip, landing right in front of the principal to take his diploma and shake hands.

The entire crowd erupted into cheers. And before he returned to his seat, Ben took a deep bow, and blew a kiss to his adoring fans.

Eponine and Arthur hollered and cheered, and Ben grinned up at them, holding his diploma above his head and pumping his fist.

After the ceremony, when Ben came up to them, the diploma case in his hand, his graduation cap already folded in half under his arm. He'd had to surrender the robe to get his actual diploma, and he'd felt no connection to the hat enough to keep it nice.

His dad gave him a huge hug, and then pulled Eponine into a bear hug as well.

"I'm so proud of you!" Arthur yelled. He had a loud voice, one that boomed out of his chest, and around them, families stopped and looked around in surprise.

Arthur paid no attention, and after a few more congratulations for his son, dragged them both out of the stadium, and into his car, to treat them both to dinner.

He had requested that they not leave until Monday, so, even though Eponine's 2 bags were packed and sitting in the guest room of the Grantaire house, she would be living off his generosity for a few more days.

The Mexican restaurant they stopped at was delicious, and it had been so long since Eponine had been able to eat good quality food at a restaurant that she immediately stuffed her face with the enchilada she had ordered. Enough that when she looked up to inhale, she found her dinner companions staring at her.

She swallowed, slowly, and when they still didn't say anything, she asked, kind of scared, "What?"

Silently, Arthur pushed a present box across the table towards her. It wasn't very big, only about as long as her hand, and not very deep, but she was still slightly terrified by that little box.

Ben shoved it even farther towards her. And she finally picked up the small, well-wrapped box. Looking back up, she saw both of them looking at her. And she slipped off the ribbon to open the box.

It was a cell phone. An old one, but as she picked it up, and found the charger beneath it, she found it was on and ready to use.

"It's not very new, but I want you to have a phone, wherever you're going, wherever you end up. I'll pay for it, it's on the same plan as Ben's and mine. Happy graduation."

Gasping, she stared down at the phone, and flipped it open. He was right, it was an old model, she hadn't seen one like this around school since sophomore year. But still, it was a phone. And she didn't have to pay for it.

She realized then that this graduation wasn't just the end of her old life. It was the beginning to her new life.


End file.
